I am a child of punk rock, nu-metal and alternative rock. Don’t get me wrong, I love Frank Sinatra, Eminem and Chopin. But for me electric guitar riffs are in my bloodstream. I started listening to punk rock music when I was in 5th grade. An overload of pre-teenage angst was surrounding me. I needed a way to vent my frustrations. Kanye West and Dean Martin were not cutting it. Through the wonderful inventions of Guitar Hero and YouTube, I was able to find my escape into a louder world full of screeching guitars, drums that sounded like giants’ footsteps and singers that were fed up with everything.

As I got older I started going to rock concerts. A few weeks ago I went to see AS IT IS, Senses Fail and Sum 41 at the House of Blues. I highly recommend these three bands’ music. For AS IT IS and Senses Fail I stayed (read: sneaked up to) on the upper level and stood against a thin railing. When they started performing my head starting nodding in agreement with the drums. I wanted to jump around and let my body move with the rhythm. I saw general admission crowd and wanted to jump in with them. But I was stuck a floor above them.

Senses Fail ended their set with a few of their hits and the lead singer saying he was going to vote for the savior who had died for our sins, Harambe. This caused a Harambe chant and me to start laughing so hard I cried.

But now that they were off the stage, my brother nudged me and pointed towards the stairs. We walked down the stairs and pushed our way to the stage. We got boxed in about 20 feet from the stage. After 20 minutes of waiting, Sum 41 came out and the house exploded.

I got pushed into a mosh pit. I knew I would have to adapt to it or end up being scraped off the floor. So I moshed. It felt amazing. The dynamics of a mosh pit are interesting. It is a circle in which people voluntarily get pushed around. The pushed also push people causing a large semi-violent circle of aggression.

As I got out of the first mosh pit, I was sore but excited. I had never felt something so relieving. At that moment I had an epiphany: all problems could be solved by a mosh pit.

I am not recommending everyone voluntarily flings themselves into a mosh pit. What I am recommending is for people to follow the unspoken ethics of the mosh pit. Race, sexuality and gender do not matter. Everyone is allowed to push and be pushed. No grudges are held. All inner angst floats away with every bump. If you fall you will immediately be picked up by your fellow mosh pitters. This is how arguments should be absolved. Instead of bottling everything up, tell the person how you feel with emotion (your push) The other person can counter argue your point (their push). If one of you is hurt than the other will step back and pick you right back up with a smile (getting picked up). By the end of the argument, you realize either how absurd the argument was or how easy it was to solve the problem. You both walk away with a smile.

Imagine if our political debates could be structured like this! Direct confrontation would be harsh at first but then the two candidates could potentially learn how similar rather than different they are.

We all sometimes need to let things go but have no outlet. While mosh pits may be an unconventional venting session, they are wonderful examples on how to deal with life. Mosh pits unify. Mosh pits allow ourselves to let ourselves go. I have to go to a few more punk rock concerts to further my investigations. Maybe in a few weeks, I’ll examine how crowd surfing is our attempt at manifesting trust in others and feeling the sublime. Long Live Punk Rock.